


Happy Birthday

by Eggspert



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst?, Bittersweet, This was written in a very unusual method for me, You decide..., fluff?, it was fun to experiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggspert/pseuds/Eggspert
Summary: Hank and Connor celebrate Cole's birthday.





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> The following fic was composed entirely in Fantismal's New ERA Discord chat over the span of approximately an hour and a half. The paragraph breaks are all precisely where each lil chat ended. I have made minimal grammatical adjustments, but it otherwise appears here as it was then. 
> 
> Enjoy~

It is a grey kind of day: cold, with clouds filling the sky. Thankfully, there seems to be a lack of rain, but Connor doesn't trust that to last.

He walks up the driveway, a bag full of groceries in his hand. Over the past few months, he had become accustomed to the constant weight shifting he has to do to keep ahold of a large number of items in the face of a slobbering Sumo barreling into him, demanding attention by pawing at his chest. 

Today is no different.

“Down, Sumo. Don’t worry, I’ll have hands free to pet you momentarily,” the android murmurs, smiling at the antics of the St. Bernard.

Connor gets the door closed and the groceries down on the counter, all in one piece.  _ Mission success.  _

“Connor. What’s all this?” Hank stands up from the table in the corner, yawning. “I coulda drove you to the store. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. It was my pleasure. Besides,” Connor’s brow furrows in concern, “your blood alcohol level is above the legal limit.” 

“Humph.” The lieutenant rolls his eyes. “What did you get, anyhow?”

Connor’s LED wavers slightly, although it remains a clear blue. “I acquired onions, bell peppers apples, oranges, cucumbers, shredded cheese, sliced ham-”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t need the list.”

“But you asked me to-”

“I didn’t mean… Sorry. You know what? Thanks, kid. Appreciate it.” He looks over at the counter, almost entirely devoid of groceries at this point. Other than a pile of plastic bags, all that remains is a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and a plain white box.

“Do you…” Connor trails off. His optical sensors flick up to the tired eyes of the lieutenant. “Do you know what day it is, Hank?”

Hank takes a swig from the glass on the table. “It’s Sunday, Connor. Do I need to get you checked out or somethin’? You doin’ okay?” 

“I see,” Connor nods. His eyes crinkle around the edges and, before Hank can stop him, he strides toward the table and dumps the contents of the glass into the sink. He sees that the framed picture of Cole is next to the lieutenant, although the revolver is thankfully absent. “I think you should get some rest, Hank.” 

“Fuck you, Connor,” the older man glares. “Just let a man drink.”

“Forgive me, Hank, for saying something like this, but I don’t think this is how…” The LED goes yellow now. “I don’t think this is how Cole would like you to be treating yourself.”

Hank looks down at the table, then back up at Connor. His eyes are bloodshot. Weary. “What’s in the box, Connor?”

Connor smiles faintly. His hands flutter nervously at his sides.

“It’s a… surprise.”

“If you were anyone else, that’d be real fuckin’ ominous, Connor.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Maybe I shouldn’t have. It--it seemed like a good idea at the time.” After becoming a deviant, Connor had been making more of an effort to follow his instincts, and that is what had led him to the box.

“Just fuckin’ tell me,” Hank sighs. “The suspense is making me lose it.”

“Alright, Hank.” Connor goes around the counter and fishes a lighter out from one of the drawers.

With slow surety, Connor brings the box and lighter over to the table. He opens it with great care, withdrawing a plain vanilla cupcake with a green and white striped candle sticking out of the frosting. “On this day, at exactly 3:12 PM, one minute from now, Cole Anderson was born.” He pushes the lighter over to Hank, who has gone a frightening shade of pale. “I was wondering… if maybe you’d want to wish him a happy birthday?”

There’s a horrible, gut-wrenching sound that comes from Hank’s chest as he tries to hold back a stuttering sob. With clumsy fingers, he fiddles with the lighter until a small flame appears. He moves to ignite the small, obstinately cheerful candle. His hands shake.

A second before the flame touches the wick, he clenches his jaw. “I can’t--I can’t do it.”

“Hank…?”

“You do it. You do it, Connor. My hands are shaking like crazy.”

Connor goes silent for a moment, awed as he realizes how much trust Hank must have in him. “Okay, Hank.” The android, in a swift, unceremonious motion, lights the candle’s flame.

Hank swipes a hand over his nose, sniffling loudly. “Okay, asshole. Now what?”

Connor’s processors whir at the inquiry. “Hank, I believe it is customary to sing the song “Happy Birthday” when one is celebrating this particular occasion.”

“No. NO. Fuck that. I’m not gonna--I can’t…” Hank looks at the cupcake like it’s a hissing cobra rearing to strike. “No.”

“That is alright, Hank,” Connor nods understandingly. “This is for you. Cole was your son. You are the best person to decide how to celebrate his life.” 

Hank grits his teeth together. “How can I celebrate something he doesn’t have anymore?”

Connor takes a deep, unnecessary breath. He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t know, Hank. I truly don’t.”

Hank’s face scrunches up, the way it always does when he’s in the middle of a tough decision.

“If…” Hank softens imperceptibly. “If you’re gonna make  _ me  _ sing, you better be, too. Asshole.”

“Of course, Hank.” He fixes his attention on the tiny candle’s flame, as that is what Hank seems to be doing. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…”

“Happy birthday dear… Cole,” Hank chokes out. “Happy birthday to you.” Tears are flowing freely down his face now.

Hank watches the candle burn for just a second more before blowing it out. A thin wisp of smoke trails up into the air, and then it is gone.

Feeling that his mission has been completed successfully, Connor moves to stand.

“Hang on a second, you bastard.”

Before Connor can fully process what is happening, he finds himself wrapped up in strong arms. The lieutenant’s face is buried in his shoulder, smelling strongly of whiskey and faintly of salt. “Thanks kid.” Hank pats him on the shoulder once. Twice. He pulls back, eyes still watery. “Thanks."   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is eggspert if u wanna hang out


End file.
